You Hate Them, But Love Them All the Same
by Paradigm of Writing
Summary: They both screwed up, they both messed up big time. He's a cheater; she's a liar. There is no middle ground. The grey area is nonexistent. It's a shame, their marriage was going so well too...


**Hey everyone, it's Paradigm of Writing here poking my head in at around another two weeks. I know, kill me with fire all you want, but something called 10th grade happened and it's much harder than 9th dealing with two college classes before I'm even sixteen. Yeah... I need a break. I honestly hit a roadblock with the latest Storytellers chapter, but then this little Zike idea jumped into my brain and I had to make room in my schedule for it! I shall call this piece You Hate Them, But Love Them All the Same. Wordy and verbose title, I get it. Trust me, you don't want to overlook this piece. AT ALL. Enjoy!**

* * *

Zelda Kerringson hugged her sides tighter, the room temperature chilling her skin to malevolent levels. The jutted in and out picture of the TV did little to calm her mood, rather it made her more tense and nervous from whatever was outside. A blaring gust of wind blew from the street into the ventilation shaft, sending a gelid, unnatural cold over the room. In the kitchen, Zelda's dog Sarge was barking his belligerent head off. Sarge was a gift to her from her late grandfather, given to her after he died in his will. As one last memory of him, Zelda would never let the four-legged friend go. He meant too much to her.

She frowned. Sarge hardly ever barked unless someone he didn't like was in the house. However, there was hardly anyone she could think of that could be in her house at this hour. She yawned, her hand obstructing the glowing emerald numbers on the nightstand. 1:37 A.M. Way too late for the dog to keep her up at this hour.

"Sarge!" she yelled, trying to get the dog's attention. There was a slight pause before more raucous noise ensued. "Sarge! Be quiet! Dammit, do I have to ask you again?" Zelda shrieked, ready to get up from the couch. However, moments later, she would find out why her pet was losing its mind.

The door to the living room opened, and Zelda turned slightly to face the visitor. "Ike! Jesus..." she whispered, a hand resting over her heart.

Ike Kerringson smiled back at her sheepishly, covered head to toe in an icy coating. He had been obliterated by the outside weather, that much could've been assumed. In front of a strong muscular frame, an azure rain jacket was thrown over his shoulders, a light olive cap covered in crystal dust perched atop a wave of cobalt hair. He scratched the back of his neck. "Sorry. I didn't mean to-"

Zelda wasn't honestly wanting to give him the time of day. She sighed. "Couldn't you at least knock?"

"I'm sorry."

"You can't just come and go as you please anymore, Ike..." she trailed off, not able to meet his eyes. The bitter sting still hurt, it was more painful than any burn, any gunshot, any wound inflicted from a blade. What he did was unforgivable... completely unforgivable.

Ike took off his cap. "Shhh. Just give me-"

"Otherwise, I'm going to have to change the locks-"

At this, the male of the marriage stomped a foot in a childish manner. "Come on, you don't want to have to do _that..._ "

Zelda was firm. "I _am._ That's what I'm gonna have to do. I don't like it, same as you hate it."

"Look," Ike said sternly. "I didn't come here to fight. Okay? I saw the light on; I just wanted to say hello."

"Say hello?" Her voice was incredulous. "Why aren't you in D.C?"

Ike breathed heavily, knowing that it wasn't going to be easy. "My flight was canceled; they closed the airport."

Zelda frowned for the second time in five minutes. "Why? The snow's not that bad..."

"No, it wasn't," he agreed. "But... it is indeed getting worse," Ike pointed to an outside window. "See?"

She tossed a sideways glance backwards to see that a mound of snow had covered it up completely, at least four feet tall at the point of the glass being obscured. "Oh shit... it is. Why didn't you get a room at the airport?"

Now it was Ike's turn to frown, coupled with an eye roll. "There _were_ no rooms at the airport. You mean a motel?"

"Yeah."

"There were no rooms. Nothing for me to book. Everything was taken."

" _Everything_?" She couldn't believe what she was hearing. It would be over her dead body to have Ike stay another night in their house. It wasn't even his anymore... given with what he did.

"There was not a room to be had. I swear. You should've seen what was going on there. Everyone was shouting and pushing," A shudder. "I didn't have it in me to sleep on the floor."

Zelda wiped her brow, which oddly was starting to gleam with sweat. "Why didn't you call your friend, the _stewardess_?"

Ike's eyes flashed in anger momentarily, before wearily heaving. "I told you, she's a travel agent."

"I honestly don't care what she is. She's a slut first and foremost," Zelda wisely pointed out... although she wasn't one to judge. "Whatever... but did you?"

"I did."

"And? She couldn't help you? With all of her many connections?"

"Not really, no. I was offered a room that'd be given to me tomorrow morning around noon, but I needed somewhere else to sleep," Ike explained. "I was forty five minutes away from home. All I could think about was coming home," The two locked eyes, though the action seemed private, and privy. Zelda broke the contact, it willed too much out of her. Ike understood completely. "Don't worry. I'm sleeping in the den." he assured her.

Zelda scoffed. "Who's worried?"

"Look, I just wanted to say hello, like I said-"

"You're melting." she cut him off.

Ike's eyebrows furrowed together. "I beg your pardon?"

"Your jacket. It's making a puddle." Zelda said, nodding towards the article of clothing in question.

"Oh, sorry," Ike apologized. There was a moment of bated breath as the two stood awkwardly together in the living room. Zelda scowled, as Ike didn't bother to take off the jacket. To get the ball rolling once more, he started for a friendlier conversation. "I looked in on Ness. He seemed pretty wrecked."

Zelda laughed, an actual genuine laugh. "Oh yeah... he partied hearty. He fell asleep in the car. I made a successful transfer though. He didn't budge."

Ike chuckled. "He's snoring his head off in there."

"He's getting a cold..."

"Oh, that's not good."

"Yeah... I gave him some Tylenol before we left Marth's."

The inner father inside Ike came out, and he sprouted a question he often asked when concerning his kid. "Liquid or chewable?"

"Liquid." Zelda answered curtly, not seeing why it mattered. Medicine was medicine after all.

Ike was taken aback by this. "Wow. And he let you? Man, he usually puts up such a fight. Remember how'd he make himself gag on it so we'd be cornered into using chewables?" The two grinned, trying to remember the beautiful times of before, only to be shattered by a decision of apocalyptic proportions.

Zelda rubbed her arm, slightly discomforted by the familiarity of the conversation. " _Might as well change the subject_..." She glanced past her husband towards the kitchen door. "Yeah... well look, if you don't mind, I'd really like to be alone right now if you don't mind."

"Of course."

"Your bedding is in the dryer."

"Oh. Thanks."

"I- I threw everything in the wash. I wasn't expecting you back." Zelda admitted.

Ike shuffled a foot into the carpet. "I know. Thank you. I'll-"

Even though she didn't like him at the moment, it would've been common courtesy to remind him of one crucial thing. "You might want to grab an extra blanket while you're at it; sounds like it might get pretty cold in the den."

Ike smiled. "Good idea. Thanks," A wooden chest was pressed up against the far wall, next to a bookshelf. Inside the antique were blankets of every color and pattern to be had. If there was the time to choose, Ike would be there for hours wanting to pick the right one that suited him. He walked over to it, his eyes flickering to the shelf. A strange book was propped on the top, and he grabbed it. "What's this?"

Zelda raised an eyebrow at the item in her husband's hand before coming to terms. "Oh. That. It's for us, from Italy. A little house gift. Seems homey, no? Marth, God love him, knows what a disaster I am in the kitchen so he's always giving me things like trivets and cookbooks." _And something else as well_ , _but she didn't find the need to say it aloud_.

Ike placed the cookbook down, and stood in front of the wooden chest, unopened. "So, how is he?"

"He's fine. _You know_. As always. He went on and on about his Italy trip. I prayed amen to God that his slides weren't back yet." Zelda said.

Ike rocked back on his heels, which silently noted Zelda that he was copying all of her actions. "So, what did you tell him?"

"About what?" she asked innocently.

"Why I wasn't there." he stated blankly.

"Oh," she shrugged. "I said you had to go to D.C."

"And he accepted that?" Ike frowned.

"Why shouldn't they accept that? You're always going _somewhere_." Zelda sneered.

Ike brushed off the insult, although he choose to show a wince. "Yeah... but he didn't suspect anything?"

"No."

"What did he say?"

"What do you mean, what did Marth say? What did Marth say about what?" Zelda growled.

"About my now being there." Ike explained.

"Said he was sorry." Zelda said distantly.

Ike's eyebrows furrowed together. "Sorry about what?"

"About you not being there! Jesus! Will you stop," she shrieked, throwing her hands in the air with exasperation behind it. "Are you going to cross-examine me now? I'd much rather have you _not_ ," There was a break, another sigh, and Zelda spoke again, much quieter. "Look, I'm tired. I'm going to sleep."

"I just want to get an idea of what you two talked about, that's all."

"I already told you," Zelda huffed. "Italy and stuff. Marth talked about this famous old Italian cook he's doing an entry on."

"And?" Ike questioned.

"I don't know, Ike. We talked about a lot of things; what do we ever talk about?"

Ike locked his jaw, and rather coldly spoke, "I don't know. What _do_ we talk about?"

"Movies, kids, money, the news... I don't know, what we saw, what we read. Marth's mom has cataracts; she has to have surgery."

"Is that it?"

"I don't know! I don't remember every single goddamn thing!" Zelda yelled.

"You were there for like five to six hours." Ike objected.

"So?"

"So? That means there's a lot of hours to fill with talk. You mean to tell me that the whole evening went by without a word about us?" Ike challenged.

"You are so paranoid, you know that right?" she laughed.

"Oh, really, am I?"

"Actually, I'm not in the mood for this." Zelda turned around to go to her bedroom, tired of all the bullshit.

Ike realized that the conversation was coming to an end, and it would've been wise to leave the room. The two parted, but before Ike's foot even crossed the threshold into the tiled kitchen, he spun around with an incriminating, fiery glare in his eyes. "You told him!"

"What?" came Zelda's shriek from down the hall. The beleaguered wife raced back into the living room.

"You did! You told him!"

Zelda leaned against the wall. "Oh God..."

"I knew I shouldn't have trusted you! I can tell by just looking at you. There's guilt all over you." he hissed.

"Shhh! You want to wake Ness up?" Zelda whispered, although Ike's below overtook her voice like a thunderstorm against a singular flute note.

Ike began to pace. "We were going to tell him together, face-to-face remember? We were going to get a sitter for Ness, go to Marth's house, and then come clean. It's all I asked for! Just wait for me to get back and we'd tell Marth together. But, nope. You go and fuck it all up!"

Zelda sneered. "If it was really so important to you, you should've come tonight, instead of running off to be with your girlfriend."

"Shit..." he moaned, rubbing his face. A second idea hit him, one far worse. "Where was Ness?"

"What?"

"Where was Ness when you told Marth?"

"I don't know-"

"You don't know? What," Ike lost it. "Was he fucking sitting there?"

"No! Of course not! He was upstairs. Watching a movie." Zelda shouted back.

"What was he watching?"

"I'm sorry?"

"What movie was Ness watching?" Ike demanded.

"Lord, I don't know Ike!"

"You _don't_ know what your own son was watching?"

"Oh for heaven's sake," Zelda sighed. "I don't know. Some Disney thing. Tarzan... I think."

Ike's pacing grew more agitated. "So the kids are upstairs watching Tarzan and you're where?"

"This is fucking ridiculous!"

"No! I want to get the whole picture!"

"I was at the table..." Zelda whispered softly.

"Tell me." Ike's arms crossed together against his chest.

Zelda retracted from the wall. "We were sitting there... and I lost it. I just... lost it."

"You _cried_? You actually cried?"

"Yes. What do you expect? Of course I cried!"

"Shit!" Ike yelled.

"You know what? _You_ try carrying that around with you. I'm only human!" Zelda defended herself.

"I-"

"Ike, listen to me. I was sitting there with our closest friend, eating his food, drinking his wine, I was making him believe that everything is just dandy and I couldn't do it!"

"I cannot believe it..." he muttered.

"So what? So what if he knows? So he knows! Marth was bound to find out!" she shouted, hands going up in the air once more.

"That's not the point! You've got the advantage now!"

"What? No I do not!"

"Of course you do! You got to Marth first!"

"Ike..."

"He heard your side of the story first. _Of course_ he's going to side with you, it's only natural!"

"Oh come on. Nobody is taking sides-"

"Don't be naïve. You know how it is!"

"What?"

"Marth means to much to me! I'm not gonna let you turn them against me."

"Ike, you are really overreacting."

"Don't tell me I'm overreacting! You've prejudiced my case!" Ike slammed his fist into the TV, the brunt force causing the electrical outlet to short-circuit, the TV turning off a few seconds later.

"I have not," Zelda insisted. "I was very even-handed."

Ike smirked. "How can you say that? You're sitting there turning on the tears..."

"I wasn't turning on anything," Zelda fumed. "Fuck you! I stated the facts. He was very sympathetic."

"Of course he was sympathetic. You won him over." Ike sneered.

"I did not! Stop saying that!"

"You _intended_ to tell Marth."

"That is not true! I tried, I really did Ike! I couldn't help it! Everything just spilled out!"

Ike glared at his soon to be divorcee. "Tell me," he spat coldly. "What did you spill? I want to hear what was spilled."

"Ike, this is honestly exhausting. I'm exhausted. Aren't you exhausted?"

He wouldn't hear it. "I want to know what was said. Do you mind? I'm entitled to know!"

"You know, we've been through this a dozen times-" Zelda started.

"If you're going to be speaking for the both of us, the least you could do is-"

"I told him what happened, okay?" Zelda was profusely sweating.

The argument took a screeching halt. Ike turned away from his wife, and stared out the kitchen window. "Everything?"

"Yes."

"And what did he say?"

"He was shocked. Marth was extremely sad."

"He was?"

"What do you think? He's our best friend! Of course he was shocked. Marth was terribly upset." Zelda tried consoling him, walking over to him.

"He was sad for _you_ , right? Because I'm such a bastard..." Ike growled, not looking at her.

"Marth was sad for everybody. He was the most distraught for Ness, actually." Zelda said.

Ike turned on her, pushing his wife away with a shove. "Did you tell him what you did to me? Did you tell him you killed my confidence?"

"You cannot be serious..."

"Did you? Did you tell him how you refused to hear me? Did you tell Marth how you refused to listed to me-for years-but you wouldn't? How about that?" Ike questioned.

Zelda held out a weak hand to his chest. "No more of this. Please."

"I cried out for help so many times." Ike said to the ceiling.

Zelda's compassionate gaze withered away into one of rage, seeing the greatest loophole ever. "How did you cry out Ike? By fucking stewardesses?"

Ike's glare was murderous. "I fucking told you she's not a fucking stewardess!"

"Were your cries detectable by _human_ ears, Ike? Or did only the dogs in the neighborhood hear them?" Zelda asked coldly.

"That's right. Go ahead. Cut me down. Castrate me all over again."

"Oh please. You know, I hear you say this stuff Ike... I can't believe that someone I could have been married to, for _twelve_ years, that I could have had _children_ with, would be capable of sprouting such banal bullshit!" Zelda shouted.

"Even now! Even now you're doing it," Ike overrode her. "Even now you are refusing to hear me!"

"Oh, no, Ike. I "hear" you. I "hear" you, alright? Tell me your girlfriend feeds you this crap, Ike! I can't believe you came up with this on your own." Zelda snarled.

"Don't patronize me," he roared. "I don't need _Sheik_ to tell me what I'm feeling."

"Don't talk to me about being patronized! You patronized me, all along," she sneered. "From the very beginning."

"I patronized you?" Ike pointed a finger back at him, laughing the whole time.

"Yes! Admit it. You never took me seriously. Never saw me as someone real, especially as an artist! Never!" Zelda yelled.

"I supported you! I supported you our entire fucking marriage! How can you say that I didn't support you," Ike hissed, grabbing her and shaking her. "You got a great deal! You needed time for yourself, remember? I helped the kids. I got a nanny."

Zelda pushed herself away from his grasp. " _Me_ a nanny?"

"Yes! You also needed a place to work on your art, remember? I built a place over the garage for you. God knows what the fucking hell you do up there all day." Ike growled.

"All I ever wanted from you was _respect_ , you know that? For me, for my art..."

Ike paused, and closed his eyes. He grinned to himself, knowing there was nothing else to hold him back. "Ah your art, your _shitty_ art."

"What's the use anymore. Get out of here! Go. Get out!" Zelda screamed.

"You held this marriage _hostage_ to your shitty art!" Ike snarled.

"I said out!"

"Do you know what's it is like having to support something you don't believe in? Do you Zelda? Do you? It's exhausting."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore-" Zelda held a hand to her stomach.

"The lying! All the fucking lying! Lying to you. Lying to myself!"

Zelda pressed her hands over her ears. "Out! GO AWAY!"

"What was I supposed to tell you? Was I supposed to say that your art sucked?" Ike challenged.

Zelda looked up at him. "Bastard..."

"Huh? Was that what I was supposed to say? That it was just a fucking excuse for you not to get a real fucking job like everybody else?"

"You are such a fucking bastard."

"And really _do something with your life_ perhaps?" Ike jeered.

"How dare you! How _dare_ you!" Zelda howled. If looks could kill... Ike Kerringson would be a dead man.

"I couldn't do that; how could I? Everything depended on perpetuating this myth of a talent..." Ike dropped his gaze.

Zelda socked him right in the jaw, causing Ike to reel back. He grabbed her wrists, clamping on with a vice grip. "You wanna fight? Huh? You want to hit me?" He threw her on the couch, and straddled her, locking Zelda down with his knees and hands.

"Let go of me! Let _go_ of me!"

"Hit me! Hit me," Ike screamed. "Go ahead and hit me!"

"Prick!"

"Bitch!"

Zelda spit in his face. Ike punched her in the throat, then wrenched her off the couch. He jumped atop her, pinning her to the carpet. "Fuck you Ike!"

"I hate you!"

"Liar!"

"Dilettante!"

"You fuck!"

" _Look_ at me! Look what you've _done_ to me!" Ike cried.

"Look what've you done to _me_." Zelda yelled.

"I could kill you! Right now, I could fucking kill you!"

Zelda didn't bat an eye. "Try it. I dare you."

The two looked at each other innocuously, heated breaths coming from both of them. Passionate orbs of jeweled glass stared at each other, blood induced rage rippling through their skin. Ike and Zelda stared momentarily at each other, before he leaned down and kissed her on the mouth. A quick pause happened, as Zelda reached up to kiss him as well. While the two kissed, he unbuttoned her loose nightshirt, she stripping him of his pants.

* * *

 ***grins wickedly* I don't think it takes a genius to figure out what happens next. But, there we have it folks! That's my first ragged, rather dangerous attempt at a Zike one-shot. Granted, reading all of pyroleigh's stories actually inspired me to do something with the couple so I went with an idea of rash and violent tendencies. I think it worked well! Please review, and let me know of what you thought! What was being hinted at with the summary and the italics for Zelda, as she's done something not so clean herself... What was your favorite line in the one-shot? Sound off below! Thanks again, and I love you all! I'll be having the next Storyteller chapter out before Saturday, and I'm serious about that. Bye!**

 **~ Paradigm**


End file.
